


The Fear of Falling Apart

by littlemusings



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemusings/pseuds/littlemusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine have been best friends since they met on a bench behind Lima Memorial Hospital when they were ten. While Kurt spent most of his summer days hanging out with his nurse stepmother, Blaine was sick. This is the story of their time together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fear of Falling Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Panic! At the Disco’s “This is Gospel”. There will be references to Kate DiCamillo’s "The Tale of Despereaux," a book I’ve loved since I was a kid, but there is no need to read the book before reading this (though I highly suggest you check it out on your own time).

**01. _2003_**

Most ten year olds would find themselves hanging out at their friends’ houses during summer vacation, or taking road trips to Disneyland with their parents in ancient RVs. However, Kurt Hummel found himself hanging out at Lima Memorial Hospital every week during the summer of 2003, as his stepmother, Carole, worked the daytime shift at pediatrics. His stepbrother, Finn, was off at soccer camp, so he had no one to talk to.

Honestly, he’d rather be at home, watching old re-runs of  Power Rangers In Space and wedding his action figures to each other in lavish ceremonies. Thankfully, there’s one person who makes these incredibly boring trips to the hospital worth it: his best friend, Blaine, who’s nine and in the fourth grade--Blaine who walks around the hospital looking like an incredibly young and tiny hobbit in his white hospital gown and portable IV. 

He had met Blaine on the hospital playground, down near the little snake path that wound around the Children’s Hospital and the chapel in the back. He’d been reading a book that his mother had given to him before she died--one about a little mouse named Despereaux, a princess named Pea, and a girl named Miggery Sow-- _The Tale of Despereaux_ \--when little Blaine came rolling around, dashing down the snake path looking absolutely exhausted as he plopped down next to Kurt on the bench.

“Sorry,” he said, gap-toothed and curly haired, wheeling his IV to catch up with him. “My nurse, Shiela, she’s lookin’ for me. I’m supposed to be taking my medicine right now, but I really don’t want to since it tastes like bananas, and I really, really don’t like bananas.”

Eyes wide with wonder, Kurt merely blinks back and said, “I don’t like bananas either, but my stepmom says they’re supposed to be good for you because they have potassium. I don’t know what potassium is or why it’s super important, but my stepmom’s a nurse so I guess we have to eat bananas or at least like them at some point.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Hi, I’m Blaine,” Blaine said, plopping down on the bench, holding a hand out to Kurt. “What’s your favorite vitamin flavor?”

“Uh, I’m Kurt,” Kurt said, trying to hide a smile as he took Blaine’s hand and shook it. “And my favorite vitamin flavor is probably strawberry, but sometimes I like the grape ones.”

Blaine’s face lit up. “Strawberry is the coolest! What are you reading?”

“ _The Tale of Desperaux_.  My dad bought me a bunch of books a few weeks ago and this was on top of the pile.”

“Wow, I read that book last year!”

“What grade are you gonna be in?”

Blaine pursed his lips. “The fourth grade. I got sick so I got held back a year. I’m supposed to be in the fifth grade--”

“I’m gonna be in the fifth grade,” Kurt interjected. “Aw, where do you go school?”

“I go to St. Gerard.”

“I go to Maplewood.”

Blaine frowned and sighed. “Well, this sucks. Hey, do you wanna read? I really like this book and it would be nice to read a little bit with you before Nurse Shiela finds me.”

“Are you sure you should be running around like that?” Kurt asked warily, clutching his book tightly and looking at Blaine’s little running IV. “My stepmom always tells patients to be careful--”

“--I’m fine. Let’s just read.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, trying to suppress the little smile creeping up on his lips. “All right. Let’s get started.”

“Actually, I think it would be more fun if we just read our favorite parts. I don’t think we’re going to get through a book with a bazillion pages in time.”

“I’m here every day this summer,” Kurt replied almost immediately. “So we can read it little by little.”

That day, Nurse Shiela had caught up with Blaine, but after much coaxing and begging, he was allowed to sit with Kurt for an hour at a time every single day. So began Kurt and Blaine’s little ritual of sitting down in the park bench behind the hospital and reading  _The Tale of Despereaux_.

However, today, Blaine is nowhere to be found. Kurt fidgets on the bench, flipping through the pages of the hardcover book absentmindedly, looking around. It’s been about a month since they started the book--they usually spend half their time together telling each other about themselves and their extremely different lives. Blaine’s father works for a huge company, his brother is in high school, and his mom is a Filipino-American socialite who is usually out and about, mostly in Westerville. He’d been in and out of the hospital for nearly a year because of treatments--he had cancer, he explained the day they met. (“ _But I’m not gonna die, obviously_ ,” Blaine said with a laugh. “ _My mom said my doctor told her that I’m doing good_.” ) They also share similar dreams of being in New York one day.

Weirdly enough, Blaine seems more eager to hear about Kurt’s life, drinking in the little details about Burt Hummel’s garage, his late mother, his stepmother, and stepbrother, Finn.

_It’s nice having someone who listens_ , Kurt thinks.

He looks around worriedly once more and then gives up. He checks his watch: Blaine is twenty minutes late. Closing his book and setting it in his bag, he begins to walk down the path and back into the building to go to the Staff Lounge where Carole probably was taking a break.  And then--

“Kurt!”

Kurt spins around and sees Blaine running down the path, sans IV, sans the hospital gown, sans pajamas--and behind him are two people who he assumes are Blaine’s parents, a tall, handsome man in a suit and a small, petite Asian woman in a black dress.

“I’m getting out! I’m okay now!”

Blaine  had  been looking better over the past few weeks.

“Really?” Kurt says, a smile on his face. Blaine reaches out and the two of them hug. “I’m really happy for you! So are you going to go to St. George in the fall still?”

Blaine nods. “Yeah, but I’ll be a  fourth  grader, which kind of sucks, but at least I get to go back to school!”

“Can I see you again?” Kurt asks in a small voice. Blaine’s parents have caught up to him, smiling.

“Of course you can, sweetheart. Who is this, little Bee?” his mom asks, ruffling the little tufts of hair on his head.

“This is my best friend, Kurt,” Blaine says proudly, smiling that gap-toothed grin of his.

His dad looks surprised and holds out his hand. “Hello, Kurt.”

“Hi, Mr. Anderson,” Kurt says shyly, shaking Blaine’s father’s hand, shaking it.

“But yeah, I’m feeling better now, the doctor said--”

“—In remission, honey, that’s the word,” his mother interjects. Blaine rolls his eyes.

“I know, mama, I know,” Blaine says, and continues, “he said I can go back to school and just do everything and stuff! I’m really, really excited.”

“Kurt, why don’t I give you our phone number? Maybe your dad and mom can talk to us and we can set up a play date--”

“ Mom,  no one says ‘play date’ anymore,” Blaine pipes up.

“Okay, so we can set up a time where you kids can ‘hang out,’ or whatever is cool these days,” Mrs. Anderson says, laughing. Kurt notices that Mr. Anderson is a quiet guy, but he seems incredibly nice--he’s smiling, at least.

“All right,” Kurt says, nodding eagerly. Mrs. Anderson fishes through her purse and pulls out a card.

“This is our house number at the very bottom. Just let your dad know, okay?”

“Okay!”

“I’ll see you around, Kurt. Thanks for reading with me,” Blaine says, hugging him again. “I’m sorry I was late, I’m not gonna be late ever again.”

Kurt practically melts into the hug. When they let go, he watches and waves as Blaine walks off with his parents. Sighing, he sits back down on the bench and he notices Carole, his stepmother, walking his way.

“Hi, honey,” she says with a wave. Kurt gives her a little smile. “I heard your friend Blaine got checked out today. He and his mom and dad must be really happy he’s in remission.”

“They really are. Carole, can I hang out with Blaine sometime?”

“You mean, like a play date?”

“No one says ‘play date’ anymore,” Kurt says with a wry smile. “But, yeah, before school starts.”

“Of course, sweetie.”

\----------------------

**02. _2006_**

They are thirteen when they come out to each other.

Blaine invites Kurt over for a sleepover, Kurt doesn’t expect the night to turn out as it did, a strangely bitter night of confessions. A plethora of pillows, blankets and empty bags of popcorn, surround them.  _Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man’s Chest_ plays on Blaine’s television.

“I want to tell you something, and I want you to swear you’re not gonna tell anyone,” Blaine mumbles, turning the television off. Kurt raises a speculative eyebrow and turns to face his best friend.

“Blaine Devon Anderson, I’m intrigued,” he says curiously.

“Okay, you can hate me all you want after I tell you this. I’m not gonna blame you.” Blaine looks incredibly nervous and wipes his palms on his pajama pants.

Kurt’s curious stare turns into a frown. “What’s wrong, Blaine? I’m not going to hate you, no matter what you tell me.”

His best friend takes a deep breath. “I think I like guys.”

Kurt’s breath catches in his own throat and his eyes widen. Blaine plops down on the floor, covering his face with a pillow. “Aw, crap, I knew you’d hate me--”

“Blaine, I don’t--”

“Your face says it all, really. I don’t know what’s going on, I had a really weird dream about Johnny Depp the other night--”

“--Blaine--”

“And we were on a  cruise  and he was feeding me freaking  _grapes_ \--”

“No wonder you wanted to watch  _Pirates_ tonight--”

“And the other day, I wanted to kiss the new guy in my class or I don’t know maybe--”

“Blaine!”

Blaine peeks out from under his pillow. “Yes?”

“I think I like guys, too.”

\-----

Blaine comes out to his parents first.

His dad seems a little bit upset, he notices--but the little nod he gets is enough for him to get by, enough for him to know that his dad doesn’t hate him entirely.

His mom, on the other hand, doesn’t bat an eyelash and kisses his cheeks, saying: “My little Bee, I’m glad you told us.”

Honestly, he’s incredibly surprised and wildly relieved at his parents’ reactions.

\-----

Kurt, on the other hand, waits until a few weeks after Blaine to tell his dad, step--no,  mom,  now, and Finn, that he’s gay. Burt nods gruffly and tells his son that he accepts him no matter what--that he’d always be proud of him. Carole gives him a hug and says something along the lines--but Finn, on the other hand, seems a little bit wary. However, a few hours later, he goes downstairs to Kurt’s basement room and gives his brother a hug.

All seems well.

\----------------------

** 03\.  _ 2009 _ **

“He’s your brother, Finn! You’re supposed to stand up for him!”

Kurt lets out a loud groan and continues to bury himself under a pile of blankets. His parents think he can’t hear anything, but his father never talked someone down in a volume less than that of a plane’s engine.

He pulls his phone from his dresser and texts Blaine.

**To Blaine (5:45 PM)**  
_ Opinion game time: Lady Gaga or Beyonce? _

Blaine replies back almost immediately.

**To Kurt (5:47 PM)**  
_ Are you really asking me that question? What an arduous task, my friend, picking between queens. _

**To Kurt (5:47 PM)**  
_ I strongly believe that the only person who can answer this question is Madonna. _

Kurt snorts.

**To Blaine (5:51 PM)**  
_ Really? Madge? Go fly over to London, B, she’ll talk off your ears. _

**To Blaine (5:51 PM)**  
_ Not in the Hannibal-Cannibal sort of way, I mean. _

**To Kurt (5:53 PM)**  
_ I was afraid you’d left me at the whim of one Hannibal Lecter-cum-pop star there. _

** To Blaine (5:56 PM)  
** _ I would never. [fingers crossed] _

** To Kurt (5:58 PM)  
** _ I am going to call you right now and give you a stern lecture about lying to people’s cell phone screens. _

Moments later, Kurt hears his phone go off and picks it up.

“So, tell me what’s wrong,” Blaine says quietly. Kurt can hear the shuffle of plates in the background. “Is everything okay there?”

“Finn and my dad,” Kurt sighs. “I just—I can fight my own battles, but my dad doesn’t think that right now and expects Finn to help me out every time someone shoulder-checks me into a goddamn locker.”

“He means well,” Blaine replies earnestly. “He doesn’t want his kid to get beat up, that’s all.”

“I  know , Blaine—but I just want to tell him that Finn is really trying his best. Today…today was a slip-up. Karofsky cornering me in the back of the school was a slip-up because I wasn’t paying attention. My brother can’t watch over me every single second of the day, and I got out of that mess just fine.”

“Maybe you can tell your dad that you were being passively vigilant, so you didn’t notice Karofsky and his friends following you outside. Like, you were thinking about how delicious the cheesecake in the cafeteria was today in lieu of watching your peripheries right at that moment."

“Really?” Kurt says, rolling his eyes. “’Passively vigilant’? Really, B?”

“There are a few possible reactions to this very articulate excuse: your dad staring at you in confusion, him telling you that you are ridiculous and pretentious, or you just need to really watch out for your well-being. Trust me, I’ve used it before.”

“Does this marvelous token of an excuse actually work?”

“To some extent.”

“To ‘ some extent ’.”

“Okay, fine, it depends on the parent, I think. My dad told me off and said my excuse was dumb and inconsiderate to my own personal well-being, but the second time, he laughed about it."

Kurt snorts. “All right, I’m never using that excuse. Ever.”

“I’m sorry, I like to live dangerously.”

“So when are  you  starting class? You’re lucky you got an extra week of summer break."

Blaine’s voice brightens. “Next Wednesday! Can you believe it? Freshman year!”

“I cannot believe I am acquainting myself with the likes of  freshmen . The lowest of classes.”

“Hey! I was supposed to be in your grade, remember?”

“Point,” Kurt sighs. “Well, be vigilant, Link Larkin. Thou art not walking into just  any  school. Thou art walking into public school for the first time. ‘Passively vigilant’ will just not cut it.”

“Who are you, Shakespeare?” Blaine laughs. “I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“If anyone tries to bug you, I’ll be just a phone call and twenty minute drive away.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’m just worried about you and that David Karofsky.”

“I’ll be okay, B. You know me."

“And you, me.”

Kurt smiles. “Hey, did you know that they’re starting up a glee club here?”

\-----

It’s midnight, four weeks after their phone conversation when Kurt gets the call, as he’s finishing up writing out a study guide for French.

“Hello?”

When he hears Anna Anderson crying on the other line and hears the news, his heart absolutely drops in his chest.

Heart heavy, he finds himself in front of his parents’ room.

“I need to get to Memorial.”

\-----

It was an attack, James Anderson explains when Kurt and Burt come in. Blaine had gone to his school’s Sadie Hawkins dance with a guy friend, Manny, and the pair of then got beat up while waiting for Manny’s dad to pick them up.

Kurt can’t believe it. He knew that Blaine had come out at school just two weeks ago, and was pretty much suffering in silence as he was. Tonight was the epoch of all of the bullying.

“The doctors say that Blaine will recover—but they broke his goddamn ribs and bent his arm,” Kurt heard Mr. Anderson whisper to his dad. “Manny’s so much worse. He got bashed in the head and he’s in the ICU. They’re just kids, Burt, they were just kids who wanted to have a good time together, and this shit happens? I hope whoever did this to them gets the worst punishment known to man.”

He’d never heard Blaine’s father get so defensive over his son. He brushes the thought aside and plops down on a chair, burying his face in his hands.

\-----

When he visits Blaine for the first time since they let him, he suddenly forgets how to speak. His best friend’s arm is up in a sling but twisted a little weirdly, and he looks like death, unlike the bright-eyed boy who he talked to about the latest issue of  Vogue  with just  this morning.

“Hi,” Kurt says in a small voice, peeking out from behind a huge flower vase. Blaine gives him a small smile, but his eyes are devoid of the light they usually have, and it kills him.

“Hi,” Blaine replies quietly. Kurt sets the vase down on Blaine’s bedside table and sits down next to him. “Thanks. They’re really nice.”

“How long are you in for, Al Capone?”

Blaine chuckles hollowly, and then winces. “Don’t make me laugh. Ribs. Well…I’m here for another week or two. My ribs are doing okay, best as they can. They’re not as bad as the doctors initially thought. They’re more bruised than broken…but I’ll have to wear this cast for a month or two, which is a load of cow shit because I have a piano recital in three weeks.” 

“This sucks. The piece you were going to play sounded amazing when I heard you practicing the other day.”

“I could have played some of the notes in the middle of the overture more  _ legato _ than  _ tenuto _ , but you can’t be too picky.”

“You are insane.”

“It’s just one of my many redeeming qualities.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and then Blaine speaks up again. “Manny’s going to be okay, the doctors said. He woke up two days ago. I went to see him. He looked absolutely terrible—half his face was bashed in, but the doctors managed to fix him up okay. He’ll be out in the next few weeks, but he’s transferring schools.”

Kurt’s eyes well with tears. “Blaine, I wish I were there, I—”

“No, you don’t,” Blaine snaps. “If it were you who got put into the ICU—I don’t know how I could live like that. And I already feel responsible for Manny because I asked him to the dance, Kurt, I asked him and now he’s here and—”

“Blaine.”

“Don’t you get it? People like us, we always get the shitty end of the stick. And that’s not fair,” he says, his voice strangled.

Kurt takes his hand and grips it gently. The two of them sit there, not saying a word.

\----------------------

**04. _2010_**

When Blaine transferred to Dalton Academy for Boys in Westerville last year, things changed. He started living in the campus dorms soon after he finished physical therapy. It was hard, at first, after Blaine got discharged. His parents had to pull a few strings to get him into Dalton before the first semester ended, and when he actually got in, his dad had to drive him to campus every day just so he could get to school on time while he healed.

He joined the Warblers, an a cappella group on campus, during the second semester, and when he felt completely better, the lacrosse team at the end.

Kurt missed easily driving back and forth between his house and Blaine’s in the beginning—but the two of them made their friendship work, texting whenever they could, calling each other on Skype, and Blaine sometimes went home on the weekends.

Soon after Blaine started living in the dorms, the two of them started to talk just a little less—with Blaine busying himself with the Warblers and Kurt with McKinley’s New Directions.

Thankfully, they had the summer to reconnect before Kurt’s junior year and Blaine’s sophomore year. They spent more time together than was humanly thought possible—sleepovers, coffee meet-ups, impromptu, fun duets where Blaine feigned singing terribly, and more.

Kurt shook off some of Blaine’s actions during the summer as friendly flirty, but he couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe, there could a little bit more.

\-----

_**November 2010** _

Mr. Schuester’s assignment for the week is yet another boys versus girls extravaganza, the twist being that the boys sing songs originally sung by women; the girls, songs originally sung by men. Kurt hates the fact that he can’t sing with the girls—even though Rachel Berry wears those nauseating sweaters and dotes on his stepbrother like he’s the second coming of Christ, she knows what he likes, and she, him. Working with the boys of the glee club is okay—he has to work with them on a daily basis, but when Schuester separates the genders for competitions, he knows that they won’t give a rat’s ass about what he says.

Thankfully, Finn tries to help him out, but the guys shut down Kurt’s ideas for a Diana Ross number with feather boas during their first meeting.

The next day, Mr. Schue reads off the names of their competition at sectionals. “The Hipsters from the Warren Continuing Education Program…and the Dalton Academy Warblers!”

“Whoa, dude, isn’t Blaine a part of that group?” Finn whispers to him. Kurt’s eyes widen, and he immediately tunes everything out when Rachel starts to babble on about defeating the competition with an iron fist and ten solos from her.

Sectionals are going to be interesting.

\-----

“I’m telling you guys that as I am an ‘honorary girl’, feather boas. Diana Ross. An animal print sort of blazer with these slacks—”

“—Dude, isn’t that, like, a little, you know— _gay_?” Puck interjects with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and go spy on the Garglers?”

“The  Warblers ,” Kurt mutters.

“Same diff,” Puck says with an indifferent shrug. “Go see what they’re up to, dude.”

Rolling his eyes, Kurt pulls down his vision board from the easel and walks out of the room.

\-----

He really can’t believe he’s doing this.

**To Blaine (10:00AM)  
** _ Hey, uh, so I don’t have school today. Do you? _

**To Kurt (10:05AM)  
** _Yeah. Why? And why the heck do you guys not have school? Not faaaaair._

**To Blaine (10:08AM)**

_ Aren’t you supposed to be in class? _

**To Kurt (10:11AM)**  
_ Quick Warblers rehearsal. Hey, you should come by since you don’t have school today! I’ll show you around the school and stuff and introduce you to the guys. _

**To Blaine (10:13AM)**  
_ Okay! I’ll be there around noon. _

\-----

Dalton really, really is a beautiful school, Kurt thinks when he walks down an ornate marble staircase. Blaine had said to meet him in the South Wing.

He tries to blend in, wearing a black pea coat, a red and blue tie, a pair of black shorts he bought from RuLaLa the other day, knee-high black socks, and dress shoes—but to no avail he looks nothing like the boys wearing the blue blazers walking down the stairs with him. Pulling off his sunglasses, he notices a familiar gelled head waiting for him at the foot of the stairs and grins.

“Excuse me, I have a question—I'm new here.”

“Why, hello there,” Blaine says with an easy familiarity, holding out his hand. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“What’s going on, B?”

“The Warblers. We started putting on impromptu performances this year, so come with me! We’re putting one on in the senior commons in a bit and I’m kind of running late. Come on, I know a shortcut.”

Before he can say anything, Blaine’s tugging him down an empty hallway and Kurt marvels at the beauty of the campus, the arched doorways and the marble—just everything. He looks at his best friend who looks excited that he’s here, and excited that he’s about to perform.

Blaine’s changed over the past year, Kurt notices—he’s gotten leaner, more fit, the grip on his hand more sure. His eyes practically  shine , and it’s really nice to see him looking so healthy, so good after so long.

They arrive in a study room, which looks like something out of Buckingham Palace itself, and Kurt’s eyes widen. “I stick out like a sore thumb,” he says bluntly. “I should have—”

“Well, next time, don’t forget your jacket, new kid,” Blaine says with a wink, and Kurt feels his heart skip a beat. “I’m just kidding. I gotta go perform, I’ll talk to you  right  after.”

_Damn it, he’s your best friend. Yeah, he’s cute, yeah—okay. Okay. No. Boundaries, Hummel._

Kurt marvels at the amount of boys in the room gathered to watch the Warblers. It’s very unnerving, he thinks, seeing so many people excited about seeing a  show choir  perform. At McKinley, the New Directions never really received such a warm reception from their audiences, save for competitions. His eyes trail back to Blaine, who walks towards the boys who start harmonizing the syllables  _dum, dum, dum_ —and then, instead of blending in, Blaine jumps out in front and begins to sing.

He’d heard Blaine sing before, but not like this. He immediately recognized the tune, Katy Perry’s  Teenage Dream.  Typical, Blaine had been blasting this song all summer, but this just wasn’t  typical —Blaine was singing it now loud, clear, and perfect.

“ _You make me feel like a teenage dream_ —” he sings, pointing at Kurt with a wink. Kurt resists the urge to blush and smiles, folding his arms. He’d never seen him like this, so sure of himself and so… good  at performing. He knew Blaine took voice lessons, but his friend was usually not too eager to sing in front of him.

And then, he notices Blaine’s lips.

And everything about him.

When the song ends, the room erupts with applause, and Kurt curses himself for looking overly excited. Blaine runs up to him and asks, “How was that?”

“Blaine Devon Anderson,” is all Kurt can say. Lips quirking in a confused smile, Blaine takes his friend’s hand and escorts him down the hallway and into the student lounge. It’s mostly empty, save for a few bags that were left behind probably by the boys who went to watch the performance.

“Did you like it?”

“You were amazing. You guys are amazing, I—” Kurt says, flustered. “Holy shit, Blaine, where did you learn how to do all of that?”

“Practice, drilled in practice.”

“Whoa.”

Blaine rests his hands under his chin. “So, no school, huh?”

Kurt blushes and draws a hand down his face. “You caught me.”

“Never thought of you as the spy type.”

“I am a terrible, terrible spy. However, I will put on a game face and not tell my New Directions cohorts  anything. ”

Blaine grins. “Kurt, you are—you’re very cute when you are flustered.”

“Wait, what?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Blaine says, clearing his throat and sitting up. “I’m just—I—come on, let me give you a proper tour.”

“No, you said something about—”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Blaine says again, his face turning red. “I’m sorry, that was out of line—”

“No, it wasn’t,” Kurt murmurs.

“And I was watching you earlier, while we were performing and—”

“Did you eagerly invite me here under the guise of—”

His question is cut off by Blaine’s lips on his, and Kurt is caught by surprise, but he melts into the kiss, cupping Blaine’s cheek with his hand.

_Well, now._

It’s not as awkward as he thought his first kiss with a boy would be—it’s sure and just— wow , he thinks, losing all sense of coherent thought.

He lets out a little moan as Blaine’s tongue finds itself in his mouth, and it’s so new and feels absolutely, positively  wonderful.  He captures Blaine’s lower lip between his lips and sucks at it, and Blaine whines, standing a little and tilting his head a little to the right for  more, more _moremoremoremore_ —

And then, they separate. Kurt raps his fist on the table and leans back, and Blaine sits down slowly, eyes wide.

“Well.”

“That was something.”

\----------------------

**05. _2010 + 2011 + 2012_**

Their first actual date is at Breadstix. Blaine eats a plate of fettuccine and Kurt eats lasagna and orders a cheesecake for them to share after. Dealing with Burt afterwards was  hell —usually, he wasn’t afraid of his best friend, no— boyfriend’s —dad as they’d known each other for years, but now that Blaine’s status as best friend was gone, and ‘boyfriend’ was put into place, there’s a large chance that Burt Hummel had bought a shotgun.

It’s the same thing over at the Anderson household, but Kurt thinks that it was actually Anna Anderson who had bought a shotgun, not Mr. Anderson, who takes the news of he and Blaine dating with a smile.

\-----

The two of them go to prom together. It’s magical at first, but when Kurt is elected prom queen, it all goes to hell.

Blaine falls even more in love with Kurt when his boyfriend accepts the crown, steadfast and strong.

They ditch the prom after the coronation and end up slow-dancing in Blaine’s empty living room.

\-----

The first time Blaine says “I love you” is at the Lima Bean, after Kurt comes home from Nationals.

Kurt talks about them losing, Finn and Rachel making out on stage, and Santana Lopez going crazy—and then, he says it, his cheek resting on his hand, his eyes just so full of  love and adoration that Kurt feels like his heart is going to explode.

“I love you, too,” he murmurs back, and sips at his coffee.

\-----

The first time they fight is over a boy, a new boy at Dalton, the following year. Sebastian Smythe is cool and calculating—and takes an immediate liking to Blaine.

Kurt and Blaine talk about it, and assure each other that no one is ever getting in the way of what they have.

\-----

The first time they make love is scary, confusing, and more intimate than they’ve ever gotten, but overall, it’s one of the best things they have ever shared with one another. They fall asleep, sticky and sated, limbs tangled together under the sheets.

\-----

The Warblers and the New Directions face off again at sectionals and tie the next school year, and at regionals, where the New Directions win and move on to Nationals. 

\-----

There is also the heavy question mark looming over their heads before graduation, about them, when Kurt goes to New York. He’s admitted to one of the best musical theater schools in the nation, the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts, along with Rachel Berry, who both of them had gotten very friendly with over the past few years.

“ It’s just one year, and I’ll be home. I’ll be with you. ”

\-----

Graduation is a teary and tumultuous affair, and Kurt sees his parents, Blaine, and Mr. and Mrs. Anderson beaming with pride as he walks across the stage to receive his diploma.

_"We’ll make it work_ "—is the thought that runs through both Kurt and Blaine’s minds. 

They’d made it work out over the past year, anyway.

\----------------------

**06. _Fall 2012_**

“How is New York?” Blaine asks, carrying his laptop and setting it on his bed. “Has Rachel driven you mad with rage yet?”

“Nah, she hasn't. And it's been okay,” Kurt laughs on the other line, popping open a bottle of wine and pouring a bit into a glass. “Rachel’s doting on this one guy from school. His name’s Brody. Killer abs. He’s actually straight.”

“I’m glad he is,” Blaine says with a laugh. “Or I’d probably lose you in a heartbeat. Remember when I found your  _Muscle_ magazine collection?”

“ Hey , that was a dark time for me. Also, you’ll never lose me. I love your ab.”

“Ab?”

“'Abs' mean  more than  _one_ , you dummy. You have an ab, which I love more than anything because it’s incredibly soft and I get to lie down on it again in just a few weeks.”

“A few weeks,” Blaine sighs, pouting. Kurt returns the pout with a sad smile.

“Did you know Santana Lopez moved in?” he says, changing the topic. “It was crazy. She just walked in here, luggage bag and all of her stuff trailing behind her.”

“That’s  insane ,” Blaine says, laughing. “So she’s shacking up with you guys now?”

Kurt nods. “She’s insane, but she’s okay. She’s a good person deep inside. Anyway, enough of my New York escapades—how’s Dalton?”

“It’s okay. Same old, same old, really. Sebastian and Nick are the co-captains of the lacrosse team now, and I’m on the senior council of the Warblers now, which is really cool.”

“I’m really happy for you, B,” Kurt says, smiling. “I miss you so much.”

“I miss you, too. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now, get to studying if you want to join Rachel, Santana and I in New York this time around next year.”

“That sounds incredibly enticing.”

“And so does you graduating from high school.”

“How’s production stuff going on?”

“Okay, I guess. Could be better, but Cassie July is kicking my ass.”

“Aw, you can do it, K.”

“Did you just call me 'K'?”

“Yes, I did! I mean, you call me ‘B’, so why not?”

“B and K. We sound like a freaking fast food chain.”

“Blaine and Kurt, Burger King! K for King Kurt, future king of Broadway,” Blaine says with a wink. Kurt rolls his eyes. “I’m being serious! Considering what you’ve been telling me—and I know you haven’t been lying or else I would never let you lie down on my ab ever again—you are kicking ass at that school. That’s where you belong, Kurt, and I'm going to follow you every step of the way. I’ll even be there for your Broadway debut.”

“Blaine, I’ve just started school.”

“So?”

Kurt hums contentedly. “You’d see me even if I played a flying fish in a show?”

“I’d see you even if you played a flying fish in a show.”

\-----

**07. _May 2013_**

Blaine shoulders his lacrosse gear and heads out towards the field, waving towards Sebastian, Nick, and Jeff who are already waiting for him outside the locker room. It’s tryouts day, and he couldn’t be more excited—especially since he would be running the trials with his soon-to-be-fellow graduates.

He’s incredibly pumped up for graduation. The Warblers are set to perform, and Kurt’s going to be there along with his parents and his own mom and dad—and then, summer, and Tisch in the fall.

“Took you long enough, killer,” Sebastian says, clapping him on the back as they all started to put on their gear. Blaine winces a little, but doesn’t show it, and smiles back.

“Mavis’ AP Gov review,” he replies. “I’m honestly going to chuck my textbook out the window.”

“I know what you mean,” Jeff groans. “I don’t want to take AP exams. I’m going to die.”

“Yeah, all of this studying has been giving me a headache,” Nick adds. “Did you get to check out the set of kids trying out for the team?”

Blaine shakes his head. “Well, they’re a bunch of little shits,” Sebastian drawls, putting his helmet on. “However, there are some _very_ —”

“You are _not_ preying on the incoming freshmen, Sebastian,” Blaine says with a roll of his eyes.  Sebastian puts a hand to his heart as he shoulders his scoop.

“How dare you accuse me of thinking in such a way?” he says, feigning shock.

“Whatever,” Blaine laughs. The four of them head out onto the field and wave to their coach, who is already talking to the potential team members. Blaine knows most of the boys trying out, save for the incoming freshmen that look absolutely frightened.

“I bet you anything that Coach is going to put _that_ kid,” Sebastian mutters, pointing to a small, scrawny blond kid in the front row of the bleachers, “on first string. He doesn’t look like it but he’s probably going to kick everyone’s ass today.”

“Are you kidding me?” Blaine whispers back incredulously. “I think half of the other freshmen, plus the upperclassmen are going to crush him on the field.”

“Hey, remember  your own tryout?” Nick cuts in. “You were probably that kid’s height when you tried out for the team your freshman year.”

Blaine smiles at the memory.

“Alright!” Coach Saunders exclaims, blowing his whistle. "Break off into the two teams I told you to. Sebastian, Blaine, you run the blue shirts, Nick, Jeff, you run the red shirts. Let’s go!”

Each team settles themselves on either side of the field and gets ready. Blaine looks over his team and grins—he’s got the good ones on his side, along with the tiny blond boy. Sebastian winks at him, and then, Saunders blows his whistle. The game is on.

He scoops the ball and throws it over to one of his team members, and so on. He loves the rush that comes with playing lacrosse, and he’s going to miss it when he goes off to NYU in the fall.

“Blaine!” Sebastian yells, scooping the ball towards him. Blaine jumps at catches it, rushing towards the opposite goal line.

And then, it feels like his world crumbles down at his feet. He feels a painful throb in his abdomen, and suddenly, he hurts all over. His vision becomes blurry and all of the shouts around him turn into blurred gush.

His vision goes black before he hits the ground.

\-----

When he wakes up, the first thing he sees is light. Well, lights in  plural , blindingly bright fluorescent lights on the ceiling. And then, he feels it, the IV affixed to his wrist and the cannula attached to his nose.

“What…?” he mumbles sluggishly, blinking. “Where—”

“Hi, Bee,” he hears his mom’s voice. He turns his head and sees her sitting next to him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” he grumbles, swallowing. “What happened?”

“You collapsed during lacrosse tryouts, honey.”

At that moment, Blaine suddenly remembers the sharp pain all over his body and the slam of his head and everything onto the fake turf.

“What—how—?” he asks, exhausted, running a hand down his face.

“We don’t know yet. The doctor said that they’re going to take you in for a few tests to see what’s wrong—a PET scan and everything. Sebastian said he saw you shaking when you hit the ground and doubling up—Bee, what’s been going on the past few days?”

Blaine shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been feeling a little more tired lately. It’s because of AP exams, I guess.”

“Are you sure?” his mother eggs on. Blaine nods.

She takes his hand. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too, mama.”

\-----

Later that day, Blaine’s taken in for a PET scan.

He lights up like a Christmas tree, tumors dotting every place possible.

He’s taken in for a blood test.

The next day, he gets the results.

When the doctor tells his parents the diagnosis, he hears it from his room and laughs quietly at the words ‘Stage four’, and ‘we’ll try our best to help him’.

_Oh, the irony._

\-----

“When you going to tell Kurt?” his dad asks the weekend after Blaine’s diagnosis. The overall atmosphere in the Anderson home is somber and most of the lights are off.  Anna tucks her son in bed.

“He has exams next week, so I—I don’t want to burden him with anything or tell him anything until he gets back, dad.”

“But—”

“I’m not saying a word until he's out of school, and neither should you, mom, or anyone, for that matter.”

“But, honey,” Anna pleads, but Blaine shakes his head.

She kisses his forehead good night, and James ruffles his son’s hair.

As soon as they walk out, Blaine’s phone buzzes.

**To Blaine (9:30PM)**  
_ Hey! How were tryouts? I’m sorry I didn’t get to text you earlier; we’ve been having hardcore rehearsals for the spring show. _

He takes a deep, shaky breath and texts back.

**To Kurt (9:34PM)  
** _ They went pretty well, I think! I’ll tell you all about them when I get home. Get to studying, mister! _

When he sets his phone on his nightstand to charge and burrows himself into his blanket, that’s when he really starts to cry.

\-----

_** Three Weeks Later ** _

When Kurt steps off the plane, he runs directly into his dad’s arms, his luggage bag falling to the side. “Oh, crap,” he laughs, picking it up by the handle. “Ready to go?”

“Yup,” Burt says, clapping his son on the back. “Come on, let’s go and get some lunch. I’ve gotta talk to you about something.”

“Uh, okay,” Kurt says, quirking an eyebrow as they hurry over to his dad’s car.

\-----

They’re eating sandwiches when Burt relays the news to him.

“ What? ” Kurt whispers. Burt’s pretty sure that Kurt is going to crush the coffee cup in his hands, the froth on top spilling slightly over the edges. “Are you  kidding me? And no one told me?”

“It was Blaine’s decision, Kurt, and I had to respect that—”

“I’m his  goddamn boyfriend and he didn’t tell me!”  Kurt says, his voice a little louder, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Take me to his house right now, dad—”

“He just got discharged—”

“Dad, please.”

Burt takes a heavy breath and complies.

\-----

When they drive up to the Anderson house, Kurt walks out of the car first, fuming and running to the front door. Burt is trying to reason with him, trying to tell him to calm down, but Kurt doesn’t hear anything but the rush in his ears. He presses the doorbell probably fifty times before James opens the door.

“Kurt! I—”

“Where’s Blaine?”

“He’s upstairs, kid, uh, welcome ba—” but Mr. Anderson’s welcome is cut off by Kurt rushing into the house, right past Mrs. Anderson, who looks up from the magazine she’s reading in shock.

“Kurt, sweetie!”

Kurt ignores the both of them and starts up the stairs. He hears a door open, and footsteps rushing towards his general direction. When he finally arrives at the top of the stairs, panting, he sees Blaine walking towards him slowly and anxiously.

“Hi,” Blaine mumbles meekly.

Kurt immediately slaps him in the face.

Blaine swears loudly and cups his cheek, which is slowly turning red, and stares at Kurt, who is breathing heavily, eyes wet.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kurt says, his voice strangled. “Why, Blaine? It’s been, what, three weeks already and you—you didn’t—”

Blaine walks over to him and wraps his arms around Kurt’s neck, and Kurt melts into the hug, burying his face in Blaine’s shoulder.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry--” he sobs, shaking.

A single tear falls down Blaine’s cheek. “No, I'm sorry.”

\-----------------

** 08\.  _ May 2013,  continued _ **

“I’m pretty damn sure that the more you fix these sheets, the less sleep either of us will get,” says Blaine exhaustedly, a touch of humor in his voice. Kurt rolls his eyes and continues to tuck him in. Blaine had been admitted to the hospital again—he’d gotten an infection the other day.

“Are you warm? Do you need me to call the nurse for anything?” he asks, standing up straight and folding his arms, face knit with worry. “Or your mom, or—”

Blaine reaches a hand out and nods towards the chair next to his bed. Kurt sighs and takes a seat, holding Blaine’s outstretched hand in both of his. “I’m okay,” he says firmly. “Plus I’ve got my trusty pain pump to knock me out if I can’t sleep or if something hurts, all right?”

Kurt nods and lifts Blaine’s hand to kiss it. “Alright, B. I’ll be back in the morning, okay?”

“Sleep in tomorrow,” Blaine encourages. Kurt shakes his head. “Come on, Kurt. You haven’t slept properly in days, and God knows you haven’t had a proper meal. Take a day off tomorrow. For me. Please? I think your dad would like to see you—even my parents want you to get out and have fun.”

“I’ll save that for the weekend,” Kurt promises. “I just…I can’t  leave  you here, Blaine—”

“Okay. At least promise me you’ll go shopping with Santana and Rachel this weekend.”

“I promise.”

“Alright then,” Blaine mumbles with a dopey smile, eyes heavy with sleep, “Good night. I love you.”

“I love you too, B,” Kurt whispers back, resting Blaine’s hand on his stomach. He stands up, brushes the little tufts of hair in Blaine’s eyes out of the way and kisses his forehead. He hears his boyfriend sigh contentedly and soon enough, he’s knocked out.

Kurt falls back on his chair and runs his hands through his hair, letting them fall to his lap. He watches Blaine sleep, sick, tired Blaine, too-small-for-the-damn-hospital-bed-Blaine, Blaine covered in tubes and weird wires and machines. He listens to the little heart monitor beeping beside his boyfriend’s bed, the only other sign other than his rising and falling chest that the boy on the bed is still alive and  okay . Just okay.

For now.

The universe is a really cruel entity, Kurt thinks as he stands up and walks out of the room, lingering for seconds at the doorframe as he takes one last look at Blaine for the day.

\----------------------

** 07\.  _ Late June/July 2013 _ **

The doctors start a more aggressive treatment, and it pains Kurt to see Blaine keeling over and supporting himself with the toilet bowl. A cocktail of chemo and some other weird drug he keeps on forgetting the name of is what they’re giving him, Blaine’s mother had told him quietly one evening.  It’s something that will help shrink the tumors . Tumors. In plural. But they, along with the doctors, Mr. Anderson, and even Blaine, know that it’s not going to work.

His Bee is looking smaller and smaller every day, his face sallow and sunken.

It’s a Saturday when Kurt gets the call from Blaine’s mom.

Kurt drives up the Anderson’s driveway, and hurries to the front door. Thankfully, it’s already open, and he sees Anna Anderson standing at the foot of the staircase, hugging herself, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She’s a vision of attempted emotional containment. “He’s upstairs—in the bathroom—I tried to talk to him, but he didn’t want to hear anything. His father’s at work and can’t leave the office, so I had no one to turn to—”

Kurt nods curtly and rushes up the polished oak staircase and carefully pads down the carpeted hallway. “Blaine?” he calls out softly towards the little patch of light coming from the door left ajar at end of the corridor. He can hear quiet sobs crescendo as he gets closer to Blaine’s room.

He doesn’t bother to go in first and leans against the wall near the door. “It’s me.”

“Don’t come in, please,” Blaine whispers. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“B, I’ve seen you _naked_ , so what’s the difference?” says Kurt, sighing. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I…I started playing your favorite overture…and I was trying to do it from memory—and then I forgot it—and then it felt like my hands couldn’t move anymore and I feel like a god damn mess right now.”

Kurt takes a deep breath and opens the door.

Blaine’s sitting, crumpled at the foot of his bed, his hands in his face, shaking. His upright piano is in the corner, sheet music strewn across the floor. It’s a terrible sight, Kurt thinks, and the worst he’s ever seen his boyfriend. He takes a seat next to him, and pulls him close, kissing his forehead and rubbing his back gently. “I love you.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt, I wanted to play you the goddamn overture and—”

“Shhh,” Kurt whispers. “I love you, overture or not.”

And this is how Kurt knows Blaine’s life is really starting to go down a steady plateau.

\------

Blaine is admitted to the hospital again just a few weeks later. He’d been getting worse and it was difficult to take care of him in the Anderson house as it was far from the doctors who knew and tried to tend to his condition. Kurt began going in and out of the hospital, waiting for any news, and just to  visit  him, he had to wear scrubs because his boyfriend’s immune system was really breaking down.

Of course, the first time Kurt walks into Blaine’s room wearing the scrubs, Blaine laughs.

“Hello, doctor,” he says, a dopey smile on his face. Kurt tries not to break down right then and there.

\------

Nothing is working.

\-----

"Have you ever sat down and thought about death?" Blaine asks one afternoon. It's one of those days where he feels good enough to walk outside, and Kurt immensely thankful for days like this. He and Blaine are sitting on the bench that they used to sit on together as kids, his head on Blaine's shoulder.

Kurt sits up and stares at him incredulously. "I think most people have by the time they hit puberty."

"Well, I thought about it a lot when I was a kid." Blaine folds his arms over his stomach and looks straight out at the little park and snake path in front of them. "I used to think that heaven, or, wherever they call the place where dead people go, is this place with cotton candy clouds." 

"I don't think that's very sanitary or safe, Blaine," Kurt replies, an uneasy feeling rising up in his stomach due to the way this conversation is going. "What brought this up?" 

"Nothing, I'm just...just thinking out loud."

"So...cotton candy clouds?" 

Blaine smirks. "Cotton candy clouds, gumdrop doorknobs, candy cane trees...Kit-Kat beds..." 

"You could get diabetes living in a land like that." 

"No way," Blaine says, holding his hands out like a frame. "Picture this: a world where no one is sick and you don't have to worry about diabetes or people yelling at you, or expectations and things like that." 

Kurt sighs. "That sounds wonderful." 

"Right? You could make a goddamn musical about that." 

" _La, la, candy heaven,_ " Kurt sings quietly, laughing. 

"Hey, you okay?" 

"I guess." 

"I kind of want a more elaborate answer than 'I guess,' Kurt," Blaine murmurs. 

"I just don't...I don't want you to go."

"What do you picture heaven as?" Blaine asks suddenly.

"Seeing as I don't believe in heaven or a god or anything, I'm not quite sure how to answer that. I believe that everyone's souls or consciousnesses go somewhere that fits them." 

Blaine bites his lower lip thoughtfully. "So, where do you imagine me going?" 

"To your candy land." 

Blaine leans over to give Kurt a kiss on the cheek and puts his arm over his shoulder. "No, really." 

"Somewhere nice. With candy and every flavor of vitamin but banana," Kurt says with a little wry smile. "Somewhere where your consciousness can just constantly play music." 

"That sounds really wonderful," Blaine murmurs. "As tempting as that sounds, I don't think I really want to go yet." His voice cracks. Kurt takes a deep breath and sighs.

"I don't want you to go, either," he whispers belatedly.

\-----

“Hey, Kurt, let’s play  _ Gears of War 3 _ ,” Finn says quietly, knocking on his brother’s door. Kurt looks up exhaustedly from his laptop, and sighs. “Come on, we haven’t played XBOX together in like, a year, and I think you need a night off.”

“I’m okay, Finn.”

“No, you’re not, dude. You kind of look like that guy you played from the  Rocky Horror Picture Show , what’s his face—”

“Riff-Raff?”

“Yeah. Come on. Let’s play.”

“I don’t think so, Finn.”

Finn sighs. “I didn’t think I would ever resort to doing this.”

Kurt stares at him confusedly, and right then and there, Finn’s scooping him out of his chair and struggling to carry him over to his room.

“Finn Christopher Hudson, put me the fuck down!”

Finn merely grins and plops his brother down on one of the beanbags in his room. Kurt grumbles about  inconsiderate siblings and grabs the controller closest to the TV.

“Ready to kill some locust scum?”

“I guess,” Kurt mumbles. Finn starts up the game, and as soon as he loads up the saved slot they both used last year, they’re off and about shooting the disgusting alien locust monsters what seems like post-apocalypse Earth.

“Fuck!” Finn shouts. Kurt shoots a locust out of the way and the two of them rush down a set of ruins and begin shooting even more locusts to death.

Kurt seems to get more hostile as the game goes on, shooting each and every locust as if they had offended him personally, resorting to standing up and yelling curse words at the screen. Finn eggs him on—“Come on, dude, yell at them, and yell at them all you want—”

“ _God fucking_ _locusts and your shitty-ass lives and you taking over the fucking world and my goddamn boyfriend and making his a living hell_ —” Kurt practically screams at the television.

When the level ends, he plops back down onto his beanbag, drops the controller, and buries his face in his hands. He feels Finn’s arms wrapping around him, and again, he cries on his brother’s shoulder.

\----------------------

_**August 2013  
** _ _**if you love me, let me go** _

“Read to me?”

The question comes as a surprise to Kurt, who’s scrolling through his phone absentmindedly. He looks up and sees Blaine, wide-awake, head turned towards him.

“What do you want me to read to you, B?” Kurt asks gently, leaning forward.

“Our book. That book,” Blaine mumbles, weakly pointing at the hardcover book poking out of Kurt’s bag. “I didn’t know you still carried that around.”

Kurt’s eyes widen and he turns around and pulls  _ The Tale of Despereaux _ out of his bag. He bites his lower lip and replies, “It’s been a good companion to me over the past few years, and I thought it would be nice to carry it around again.”  Just in case.

“Hey, what about me? Haven’t I  a good companion over the past few crazy years?” Blaine asks jokingly, coughing a little. Kurt leans forward and kisses his forehead.

“You are my number one and favorite companion, so don’t get jealous of this book,” he says. “It’s a book.” _It’s you and me and us and our childhood it’s everything Blaine it’s pretty much everything it’s what made you and I actually happen_ —

“Good.”

Kurt flips through the pages. “Which part do you want me to read?”

“I would say all of it, but it would take us a billion years to get through a bazillion pages,” Blaine says. Kurt takes a deep breath. Blaine had said the same exact thing ten years ago when they first met. “Can you…can you read me my favorite part?”

“Of course, B.”

With a heavy heart, Kurt turns to the final chapter of the book, clears his throat, and begins reading.

“ _And what of Despereaux? Did he live happily ever after? Well, he did not marry the princess, if that is what you mean by a happily ever after. Even in a world as strange as this one, a mouse and a princess cannot marry._

_But reader, they can be friends. And they were. Together, they had many adventures. Those adventures, however, are a different story, and this story, I’m afraid, must come to a close_.” 

\------

Rachel comes over one afternoon, and she and Kurt talk over mugs of hot cappuccinos.

“This,” she says, gesturing towards the empty chair to their right, “does not feel normal.”

Kurt nods. “It really doesn’t.”

“I’m—I’m going to miss him.”

“Me, too, Rachel.”

\------

"I’m tired and exhausted and I just want to go home," Blaine his voice barely a whisper, his chest falling and rising, and it seems that it’s working slower than the beat of the heart monitor beside his bed. His hand feels coarse, cold and rough in Kurt’s, and now, Kurt’s regretting his decision not to bring Blaine’s favorite lotion with him to the hospital today because he knows Blaine misses it.

It’s not the only thing he thinks Blaine is missing, though. He knows his boyfriend misses the comfort of his own bed, his own shower, real food, real hugs, his piano (“ my goddamn piano ,” he mumbled the other day) and everything under the sun. Kurt moves a stray curl out Blaine’s eyes—those beautiful, hazel eyes—and nods, fighting the urge to let the tears forming in his eyes fall. “You’ll be home soon, baby,” Kurt replies, his voice thick. “You’ll be home, and this’ll all be over in a flash.” His voice falters at ‘flash,’ his tone slightly piquing towards unsure. But Blaine doesn’t catch it.

"I hope," he mumbles, his voice hoarse. "You should go home. Get…sleep." He’s struggling with the words and it’s so obvious that he’s frustrated and sluggish. Kurt’s heart breaks into even tinier pieces. "Don’t…worry about me."

But I do have to worry about you , Kurt thinks. He bites his lower lip, squaring his jaw to avoid crying.  You could be gone and I wouldn’t even be here to…to say it . He can’t even think of the word ‘goodbye,’ it’s a word that’s foreign on the tip of his tongue. He’s said it countless times before, but never in a situation like this.

"No, it’s okay, I’m staying right here," Kurt says firmly, cupping Blaine’s cheek with his hand. "I’m not going anywhere."

Blaine’s eyes, tired and dull, but still shining with that beautiful yellow-green tint, gaze back at him, impossible to read. Kurt’s trying to figure out what’s going on in the inner workings of Blaine’s mind—he usually can, but now…he just can’t pinpoint what he’s trying to convey.

"Are you okay, B? Do you need me to get a nurse?" Kurt asks, rising a little in his chair, voice wavering. Blaine shakes his head.

"Just…want to look…at you."

Kurt’s eyes are shining with even more tears and he takes Blaine’s hand in both of his is and kisses them over and over again, murmuring into Blaine’s skin:  _ I love you I love you please don’t leave me I love you so much I’m here and I’m never letting you go please just don’t _—and the tears finally spill out. Blaine is sitting in front of him, dying, in a hospital gown, hair missing in places but still beautifully curly, face sunken and sheet-white, eyes ringed by dark circles, looking too, too small for the big white room he was in, attached to one too many cords and strings and a nasal cannula. 

The reality of it all hits him, and hits him hard.

Kurt’s body is shaking and racking with  these _fucking tears, why is this happening I don’t want to let him go I just don’t want him to leave_ _—_

"Don’t cry," Blaine says quietly, his voice cracking at the end. "Please, don’t."

Kurt just begins prattling on, the words flowing out. “I don’t want you to die. I don’t want to lose you, Blaine, and I feel like I can’t do a single goddamn thing to help you and it’s killing me. Don’t leave me, Blaine. Don’t leave us, please. You’ve fought so hard enough—not to just…just go.”

A single tear falls down Blaine’s cheek and he can only stare at Kurt, confusion written all over his face.

"I love you with all my heart," he whispers brokenly. It’s the only thing he can bring himself to say without losing it, it seems.

"I love you, too," Kurt chokes out

Blaine weakly, but surely pulls his hand out of Kurt’s grasp and pats the side of the bed next to him. Kurt shakes his head, but Blaine insists. Wiping his tears on his sleeve, he helps Blaine scoot over, and Kurt lies down next to him, trying to be careful of the IV drips and all of the cords, wrapping his arms around his waist, one of Blaine’s hands around his shoulders. The two of them lay there, in each other’s arms, the only sound other than the beeping heart monitor in the room being the soft rise and fall of their breaths.

"I promise, you aren’t going to lose me," Blaine whispers into Kurt’s hair.

\-----

Blaine Devon Anderson passes away just a week later, surrounded by his mom, dad, brother (who flew in from LA), and grandmother, who had flown in from the Philippines just to say goodbye. Anna calls Kurt at two in the morning, right after, and Kurt immediately feels his entire world shut down in an instant. He merely nods as Anna cries on the other line, and he says sorry while she does at the same time, and he hangs up, drops his phone, and then he drops to the floor, numb.

He doesn’t realize he fell asleep on the floor until his alarm goes off.

Again, the reality of it all crashes down upon him. “No,” he mumbles to himself, grabbing at his phone on his nightstand. He immediately dials Blaine’s number.

“ _Hello, hi, you’ve reached the number of Blaine Devon Anderson. Please leave a message after the beep_.”

He hangs up and dials again, frustrated—and again, and again, and again.

_ Hello, hi, you’ve reached the number of Blaine Devon Anderson. Please leave a message after the beep Hello, hi, you’ve reached the number of Blaine Devon Anderson. Please leave a message after the beep Hello, hi, you’ve reached the number of Blaine Devon Anderson. Please leave a message after the beep Hello, hi, you’ve reached the number of Blaine Devon Anderson. Please leave a message after the beep. _

_ Please leave a message after the beep. _

It is only now when he allows himself to really cry.

He hears his door open, and barely sees a pair of heels and his brother’s sneakers walk into his room, suddenly, Rachel and Finn are hugging him.

“Why?” Kurt sobs, his chest aching. “Why?”

\-----

Blaine’s funeral is held on a deceivingly sunny afternoon. It seems like most of Dalton Academy is in attendance, along with members of the New Directions who had come home for the summer. People come up to speak, like Sebastian, Nick, Jeff, and Wes Montgomery, who had flown in from Chicago right when he heard the news. His grandmother and older brother speak as well. It’s all too surreal for Kurt, and he tries to keep his bearing when it’s announced that it’s his turn to speak.  

When he steps up to the podium, he sees Rachel give him a sad thumbs-up, and he clears his throat.

“Hello, everyone. My name is Kurt Hummel and I was Blaine’s boyfriend. Actually, I consider him my best friend more than anything. We’ve known each other since he was first diagnosed at nine, and from then on, I could never get rid of him and his dumb little penchant for pop songs and big words.”

This receives a small titter of laughter from the crowd. Kurt smiles wryly and continues. “Blaine—Blaine always cared about people. He had this dumb little personality ‘flaw’—as he liked to call it—where he always put people first. And boy, did he like to talk. Half the time I’ve known him, I think I told him to shut up about a million times.

"His smile absolutely brightened up the room. Once, when I went to visit him a few weeks ago, I saw him, lying in his bed, looking way too small for it, and he looked at me and just  smiled . Like he knew that despite not knowing what exactly was going to happen to him, that a smile would make me feel just a little  okay . That our world was not him being sick or either of us being hurt—it was just  us , growing and loving each other like any other normal couple would. From that smile came the warmest feeling you’d ever feel--that of acceptance, of care, of love. It’s an indescribable feeling.

“There was a book we both absolutely adored as kids. It was Kate DiCamillo’s  _The Tale of Despereaux_.  It’s a story about a mouse who wanted nothing more than to become a knight and marry the princess of the castle he lived in. Blaine reminded me so much of Desperaux in the way that he was never selfish, and fought incredibly hard for what he wanted. People who knew him may say that his best qualities were his abilities on the lacrosse field, or his teenage dreamboat voice—but that wasn’t the case.

“Blaine’s best quality was his heart and his ability to open it up to the people he cared about. When I was ten and sitting on a park bench behind Lima Memorial, two years after my mother died, I was lost. I just had my books and my dumb Power Ranger action figures. But Blaine—he could see right through me, and he picked  me  of all people to sit with, like the universe planned it or something. He was the first person who listened—the first person to care. I hope, right now, wherever he is, Blaine is getting all the good vitamins he wants and chucking all the banana ones aside.”

He stops there and takes a deep breath. He’d say more, but he knew no one would truly understand. As he recalled, John Green said in one of his books, “ _Funerals are for the living_.”

\-----

**08. _2016_**

“Hey,” Kurt says, plopping down in front of the gravestone. “I’m here.”

It’s a pretty sunny day, save for a little bit of cloud cover in the south, but Kurt takes what he can. He sets a large tulip bouquet on the patch of grass in front of him and sighs. “So, Rachel and I graduated! Crazy, huh? She’s all set to be a star in an upcoming production of Funny Girl off-Broadway, and I’m going to be in a brand new show featuring mostly British pop. No, it’s not a Beatles musical. It’s going to feature fun stuff, like Olly Murs and whatnot, so I guess that’s fun.

“I miss you,” he whispers. “There’s not—there’s not a day that I don’t think about you, B. I’m pretty sure you’re having a ball wherever you are, blasting the latest Katy Perry single. Did you know that Katy and Russell Brand are engaged again? Crazy, huh? Eh, well, I guess you knew that already, considering you’re somewhere where the clouds are made of cotton candy like Katy Perry's  _California Gurls_ album.

“Well, I’ve got to go. Rachel and Sebastian are dragging me to Columbus to go clubbing and I honestly do  not  want to go, but oh, well. Sebastian Smythe, yeah, sounds crazy right? He and I have patched things up, I guess. He’s not as rude as he was a few years ago.” He smiles and kisses two of his fingers, touching the tombstone with them. “I love you so, so much, and I miss you every day, B. God, I really fucking miss you,” he says, choking up.

He stands, takes one last look at the tombstone, and walks off to where Rachel and Sebastian are waiting in the car.   

_Blaine Devon Anderson_  
 _ 1994-2013  
_ ___Beloved friend, lover, and son_


End file.
